


Ghosting

by BirukiMeraki



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, I'm a slave to my muse, anyways circa s2?, because i have yet to throw myself into later seasons, ghost!Pidge, i have another in the works but it's like........held off, i should probably get back to it, indefinitely, is this shipping?, it's like platonic but glancing off the shipping area, lmao I did not expect this to be my first Voltron fic, might be four chapters might be more idk, shipping area sounds weird wtf, since i value myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15771540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirukiMeraki/pseuds/BirukiMeraki
Summary: “How did you get in?”“Incorporeal form. Very handy.”“Don't you need permission to enter private property?”She snorted. “I'm a ghost, not a vampire.”





	Ghosting

Lance really liked watching horror movies. There was something about being “scared” that exhilarated him. It was the heart pounding, the exhilarating wait right before the “ghost” popped out. Of course, it helped that ghosts aren't real and this was all a movie. Fake. Make believe. There was nothing to be afraid of when it was just a man in a mask. It’s like the adult’s version of Scooby Doo. Except there was no dog, no hungry hippie to soften the blow of fear.

 

Most of all, Lance liked to sit in the theatre and listen to people being afraid. They were sucked into the primal fear these men in masks tried to evoke. But not him. Lance was firmly rooted in reality. It was only a movie. Every time he thought he was being afraid, he repeated it like a mantra. Nothing but jumpscares and men in masks.

 

Of course, this only applied to movies. Lance wasn’t the kind to do daring acts to push human limitations. He didn’t climb up buildings just to see if he can; nor did he jump off insanely high cliffs into the cold depths below. He liked to have a fun time, but he wasn’t stupid.

 

He was watching the newest horror movie, grinning at his fellow moviegoer as he hid his face behind his hands. When the ghost suddenly appeared behind the protagonist, his friend yelled and Lance jumped. A combination of the sudden grotesque face, staccato music and Hunk screaming. After he jumped, Lance accidentally let out a bubble of nervous laughter. Well, that got him good.

 

Hunk punched him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s not funny! I was just surprised.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes at his friend and when Hunk whispered something in retort, someone shushed them. Hunk huffed and leaned back in his seat, trying to put as much distance between him and the screen, his legs straining due to the effort of pushing his body and the limited space they had.

 

Lance grinned again at his friend’s shenanigans and turned his attention back to the movie. The thing about horror movies is the more movies you watch, the more predictable they get. Lance could predict with about 95% accuracy exactly when a jumpscare is about to happen. But no matter how much he tried to prepare his friend for it Hunk would still yell when it inevitably happens. Hunk disliked horror movies but keeps coming with him in an effort to get over his fear, to little success.

 

“Now,” Lance muttered right when the ghost popped out, making Hunk jump in his seat again. Lance smiled and yawned. The best horror movies were the ones where his predictions were wrong more often than not and this movie was not one of those. He predicted the storyline, right down to dramatic oneliners. This was boring. He yawned again, covering his mouth with his hand. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open at this point and they were only about a quarter of the way in.

 

“__nce. L_nce.”

 

Lance groaned, annoyed at his beauty sleep being interrupted.

 

“Lance wake up.” Hunk’s voice wafted, clearer now that he was more awake.

 

“What?” he said blearily.

 

“The movie’s over now. I can’t believe you slept through it!” Hunk huffed in disbelief.

 

“Sorry,” Lance muttered as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

 

“I understand why you slept, it _was_ kind of boring,” a voice piped up.

 

“I know right?” Lance agreed, getting to his feet to stretch.

 

“What?” Hunk called from the end of the aisle.

 

“I said, I know right?”

 

“I know right to what?”

 

“You said you agreed with me; that movie was boring,” Lance threaded his arm through his jacket sleeves.

 

“Dude, wake up. I would never say that was boring; I was terrified!” Hunk shuddered for effect.

 

“No, I definitely heard you,” Lance argued as he made his way out the aisle.

 

“Dude, not funny,” his friend warned.

 

“ _I_ find it amusing,” the voice piped up again just as a head appeared a few inches above Hunk’s shoulder.

 

Lance had only glanced at his friend as he made his way out of his aisle. Seeing the head out of the corner of his eye, he whipped his head back to see if he was seeing things. But no, there was definitely a head, right above Hunk’s shoulder. Hunk himself towered over most people and judging from the skinny face he doubted this person was even taller. Not taking account that _they had no neck_.

 

Lance found his mouth moving, but no sound coming out.

 

“Dude,” Hunk waved a hand in front of Lance’s face. “What’s up with you?”

 

Lance couldn’t answer as he pointed his finger at the head over Hunk’s shoulder.

 

Hunk’s face paled slightly as he slowly turned to look where Lance was pointing. He then whipped his head back at Lance and landed a punch a little too hard on his shoulder.

 

“Ouch!”

 

Hunk ignored the cry. “Don’t do that! Especially right after a horror movie! This isn’t funny, Lance!” Angrily, he turned around and stalked down the stairs and out the exit door.

 

“But don’t you see it?” Lance called out, carefully sidestepping the floating head.

 

“Cut it out, Lance!” Hunk threw over his shoulder.

 

“But-” Lance let out a yell when the head popped out the wall next to him.

 

“Hmm,” it said, a hand popping out the wall as it placed two fingers on its chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. “It seems to me like you seem to be the only one who can see me.” It turned to look at him and let out a wicked grin.

 

Lance backed away a step. “This a dream,” he said weakly.

 

“The punch your friend landed just now seemed to hurt,” it pointed out. “Dreams don’t hurt.”

 

“A trick of the light, then,” Lance spat out as he sprinted down the narrow corridor after Hunk. “Hunk!”

 

“ _What_ , Lance?” Hunk was still angry at the dumb prank Lance pulled and sort of angry at himself for falling for the prank.

 

“You sure you didn’t see anything just now?” Lance jogged to a stop next to his friend.

 

Hunk let out a snort as he turned away. “Give it a rest, Lance. This isn’t funny,” he repeated.

 

“I just want to know,” Lance insisted as he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t think he’s the kind to lie about this,” the head this time rose out of the ground and rested their elbows on the floor. Lance let out another yell.

 

“Will you stop it, Lance?” Hunk growled, angrily shrugging Lance’s hand off his shoulder. “You know what? I think it might be best if I make my own way back to my place. I need to watch some Disney to wash this movie out of my system. See you later, Lance. Let me know when you’ve stopped seeing things.” Hunk stepped out the corridor and into the mall, making his way to the escalator.

 

Lance could only stare at where Hunk was, his mouth dry. He jumped and bit back his scream when the head appeared next to him, this time with the rest of their body. He was a little surprised to see that it’s a little girl.

 

“Wow he’s really pissed. Maybe you should apologise to him.” She was stroking her chin again, her other arm wrapped around her, hip cocked out towards him. She then reached for his shoulder.

 

“Nope, I’m not taking advice from a-” The next word died on his lips. _Ghost_. He shook his head roughly. “You’re not real.”

 

“Now that’s just hurtful,” she pouted.

 

Out of habit, Lance reached out to push them aside when his hand passed through her. Like she wasn’t there. He shuddered and stared at his hand. It felt like pushing aside mist; cold and a little damp.

 

She shuddered along with him. “That still feels weird.” Just as she said it, a boy ran right through her and she gasped softly, falling to her knees.

 

Lance immediately went down to his knees as well, his hand already out. “Hey, you all right?”

 

She reached out a hand to take his and passed through his again, making them both shudder involuntarily.  She growled and pushed herself to a stand. “That still needs some getting some used to.”

 

The boy, to his credit, turned back to look at what gave him such a chill. “Sorry!” he called out.

 

“No problem,” the girl said automatically, only to see that the boy had apologised to Lance. Clicking her tongue in disappointment, she turned away and disappeared, almost exactly like mist in the noontime sun.

 

“Hey wait!” Lance called out as he stood up, but she was already gone. His head raced with what he just saw. Now he was convinced this was all just a dream. Shaking his head, he made his way back home. The experience left him more than a little bit chilly and he decided to skip dinner and head straight to bed. Downing a bottle of water, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and fell into bed.

 

* * *

 

Lance blinked awake blearily, eyes adjusting to the gloom of his room. He needed to pee. Groaning, he got up, eyes scrunched tight as he made his way to the bathroom, hand feeling for the light switch. He shuddered and finally flicked the bathroom light on. Finishing his pressing business, he flushed, washed his hands, and made his way out the bathroom. He reached for the light switch and shuddered again.

 

“Nice place you have here.”

 

Lance couldn’t stop the scream from escaping his lips as he jumped to face the intruder, arms already ready to lash out.

 

“Steady now, tiger,” the ghost girl smirked from her place, leaning right in front of the switch.

 

Lance could only blink at her, before throwing his hands up in defeat. “A dream,” he said weakly. “I’m still half asleep.”

 

“Yup, with your eyes open,” the ghost girl quipped. “You’re awake, Lance.”

 

“Wait, how did you know my name?” Lance snapped awake now.

 

“Well, your friend said it plenty of times after that movie today. Unless that’s actually a nickname and you have a different name.”

 

“My nickname is different!” Lance blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

“Oh?” she looked up from inspecting her nails. “Then what is it?”

 

“The tailor,” Lance mumbled, too late to back out now.

 

“Seriously? Why?” she laughed.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance muttered, waving his hand like he was shooing a fly, ignoring her pout. “Why are you here anyway? In my house?”

 

“You can see me,” she said cryptically as she shrugged her small shoulders.

 

“So?”

 

“Do you have any idea how lonely it is when no one can hear you scream?”

 

The question floored him but he refused to allow it to affect him too much. She was trespassing, after all. “What, you want to be friends?” he asked sardonically.

 

“If you’re okay with that,” she replied, easily pushing herself off the wall and holding out a hand. “I’m Pidge, by the way.”

 

“Lance,” his hand passed through hers again and they both shuddered. “Oh, right,” he said lamely.

 

“I keep forgetting, sorry.”

 

“No, I should've remembered as well,” Lance said automatically before something clicked. “What are you doing in my house? How did you even find me?”

 

It was the first time he's seen Pidge looking confused. “I'm actually not that sure,” she said slowly, like the words were foreign to her. “I just followed a thread.”

 

“A thread?” Lance’s mouth twisted sardonically.

 

“Yeah, like I was pulled here.” She suddenly snapped her eyes to him and he jumped back a little at the intensity. “Your dreams are weird.”

 

“What-”

 

“Dark. Doesn't really fit your personality.”

 

“That doesn't-”

 

“But there was something there too,” she put a hand on her chin and stroked it again as she focused. “Underlying innocence? Like a child crying-”

 

 _“That's enough!”_ Lance yelled out, shocking them both. “I,” he stammered. “I should be the one asking you the questions!”

 

“Ask away, I enjoy answering them,” Pidge answered, getting the sense that maybe he didn’t want to talk about it yet.

 

“How did you get here?”

 

“I followed the thread.”

 

“You keep saying 'thread’ like I should know what you're talking about. What _are_ you talking about?”

 

“Look,” Pidge began, “as much as I hate saying this, I don't have an answer for that either. This might come as a surprise to you,” she ignored something he muttered under his breath, “but I'm not big into mysticism and ghosting. Which is funny considering I am a ghost now; a cruel twist of irony if I must say. But just because I am one, doesn't mean I have all the answers.”

 

“Then how can you answer my questions?” Lance asked, sceptical again.

 

“The ones I _do_ know the answer to, I'll answer truthfully,” she said sincerely. “Now keep those questions coming, I missed these kinds of conversation.” Her eyes shone.

 

“How did you get in?”

 

“Incorporeal form. Very handy.”

 

“Don't you need permission to enter private property?”

 

She snorted. “I'm a ghost, not a vampire.”

 

“How can you see my dreams? Even I don't remember my dreams.”

 

“Sleep is divided into several stages, you need to be at a certain stage to have the biggest chance  of remembering your dreams. And about that other question, I'm not that sure, it's like my mind is linked with yours; I have a rough sense of how you're feeling, what you're thinking.”

 

“Oh?” Lance leaned back as he hugged himself, suddenly self-conscious. “What am I thinking of now?”

 

She was silent for a moment. “A whole lot of things,” she said finally. “Your mind is like murky waters and something has stirred it up.”

 

His arms dropped to his sides slowly. “That's...a really accurate description of it,” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head to clear it. “Then how come I can't see into your mind?”

 

“My guess? It's because I'm dead. Brain's not working the way yours is. No blood pumping, no nutrients flowing. My guess all this time I've had to think about it is that I'm currently some sort of copy of my living body. I don't need fundamental needs anymore; I don't need to eat, sleep, nor breathe. Trust me, I've once held my breath an entire day. What I'm feeling from you is your naturally generated electric pulses, I think.”

 

“Then how come you don't do this to everyone?”

 

“I've never had the thread with anyone,” Pidge shrugged. “Maybe the thread is like a data cable enabling communication.”

 

“One-way communication,” Lance pointed out.

 

“Not really one-way if I can reply to you, right?”

 

“But I have no access to your thoughts. You have the advantage over me.”

 

She snorted again. “The mind isn't a _book_ , Lance. You can't just flip a page and be like Eureka! It's physically layers all bunched together but metaphysically  it's...vast. That's the word I can use to describe it. It's a consciousness. But I've only touched your mind so I can't prove anything concrete yet, I just have to go by hunches.”

 

Lance pursed his lips as he thought about it.”Fine. Okay. I get that. I have one more question, though.”

 

“Fire away.”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“To ask for your help.”


End file.
